Posts Tagged ‘gratitude list’

All Systems Go

August 22, 2017

Fuck.

It was a busy, full, going on all four cylinders from the moment I got up, day, from early morning until.

Well.

Until.

Right about now.

I just got off an email back and forth with director of my internship, did a bunch of e-mails with some clients, booked some sessions, logged my hours for today in Track My Hours, and whew.

It’s like um, 10p.m.

I got up at 6:30 a.m.

That’s a full day.

I got some writing in today though, I hadn’t gotten as much morning page writing in the last week or so and it was really good to just let go on the page and scrawl away.

I also showered yesterday so I skipped it this morning, giving me a little more time to process all the junk in my head.

I don’t even know what I wrote, only that it felt good to write.

And.

I did a written gratitude list and sent another out to a friend via text.

I’m on a list he sends it to and I like getting it.

Not just because it reminds me to be grateful, it definitely does that, but to see what other people are grateful for.

I am grateful for everything.

My life is beyond my wildest dreams.

Sometimes it is strange and I wonder, how did I get here, but I know there are no mistakes in God’s world and I am being taken care of and having all the experiences I am supposed to be having.

Like being of service to the woman I am traveling with to Burning Man.

I am still having some trepidations about going with someone who is 74 years old, but I also am happy that I get to be of service to her.

It’s a nice to be of service to others, it gets me out of my head, and if you’ve never been to Burning Man it is super hard to imagine and of course, if you’re 74 there’s a different approach you’re going to make than if you are 24 or my age, 44.

How did I get to be 44?

Fuck.

Time flies.

I suppose I will look back in 30 years and wonder how it is that I got to be 74.

I’m going to be old.

I know it.

I also hope to be of service all the way to the end of my life.

I believe that’s the only way that I am going to be happy, by having a useful life, by helping others, it gives me happiness, it gets me out of my own head and I got to do a lot of it today.

I had a few phone check ins, one lady who I just recently met, and got to share some experience, strength and hope with her and although we are vastly different, we are the same person and it was good to hear how relieved she was to know that she’s not alone in her journey.

I got to talk with one of the other women I work with in recovery and I also got to see clients tonight.

And.

I worked with my supervisor.

I also got to go over my review with him, which was really enlightening and I got a better idea of how he thinks of me and what I am doing and that he also, although he didn’t exactly say it, likes me.

We had a great session and I learned a ton from him today.

I often feel as though I am taking a solo masters class in psychoanalytic theory when I am working with him.

I write a ton of notes and I can hear him in my head sometimes when I am with a client.

It’s exciting to work with him, he pushes me, he’s extraordinarily smart and intelligent, and I feel smart when I am working with him.

I like feeling smart.

I have always understood that I was intelligent, but the smart part of that eludes me, I have been mystified most of my life as to what people meant when they say, “you are so smart.”

I haven’t always felt that way.

Smart.

In fact.

I have often felt rather stupid, stupid in love, stupid in my life choices, idiotic some of the decisions I have made, or so I tell myself, but oh, the learning, the learning is so much.

I have such a wealth of experiences.

Mostly because I try to say yes to doing things.

Sometimes to my detriment, I’ll get too busy, I will get to wrapped up with my schedule and I won’t have the time to appreciate what is happening.

I try to find balance.

I don’t often succeed, but I try.

And I’m ok with failing.

Ah.

Who the fuck am I kidding.

I am never ok with failing, but I recognize that I am going to fail and that I will try again and again until it works its way out, whatever it is.

I guess what I am saying is that I live.

I am not sitting on the bleachers, I am in the game.

I am hustling.

Sometimes perhaps a little too much, but I know that it’s what it is right now.

And that all the things I did, mistakes, which were not mistakes, life experiences, travels, moving to Paris, moving back from Paris, trying things out, has led me here.

Right where I am supposed to be.

With the people in my life with whom I am supposed to be with.

Such gifts.

Such grace.

I didn’t expect it to look like this.

But.

I have to say.

It is a beautiful thing.

My life.

So beautiful.

My heart aches with it.

Grateful beyond words.

And now.

One more gratitude list before I retire.

Because.

Truly.

There is that much to be grateful for.

Every day.

Grateful.

Every damn day.

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Hello My Old Friend

August 7, 2017

So nice to get re-acquainted.

Not.

Fuck me man.

I got anxious today.

Now.

That should go without saying, having been diagnosed with clinical anxiety and clinical depression about a decade ago, that I would have anxiety now and then in my life.

But.

Shit.

I’d sort of forgotten.

Good grief.

It snuck up on me today.

Perhaps because I had suddenly some unexpected down time and that can make me a little tight in my chest, a little thread of something is wrong running down my spine, unscheduled down time, what the fuck will I do?

And I had plenty to do, I always have something going on.

I did loads of writing.

I did loads of laundry.

So happy the landlady replaced the washing machine, the gift of not having to go to the laundry mat next to the 7-11 on the corner of Judah and 46th is no joke.

I did yoga.

I had lots of lovely phone conversations today.

I went grocery shopping.

I cooked food for dinner.

I had a scrumptious salad for lunch on the back porch during the half hour of sun that came out in the Outer Sunset.

Man.

It has been foggy.

I’m about ready for that to be over weather wise.

I went and got right with God.

I did some meditation.

Life is great!

And.

I ordered books for school and looked over another syllabus that got published for my fall semester.

That’s when I noticed it, the corroding of my nerves, the odd feeling in my body, the small shivers of panic.

Oh.

Hello.

I had forgotten you.

And.

Oh.

Hello.

Fuck off.

I don’t need you around.

I mean.

I really don’t.

Anxiety pulls me out of the moment, catapults me into the future, where there is not god, there is nothing, there is only fear and terror and pain.

And it’s always a bad future.

It’s not a sweet, kind, gentle, loving future.

Nope.

It’s a.

YOU’RE GOING TO FUCKING FAIL SO YOU BETTER MOVE YOUR ASS NOW.

Kind of future.

And I still might fail.

And that’s ok.

I mean.

It is at least familiar.

I know this feeling, I have had it before, and I can live through it.

And I didn’t have a panic attack.

I had the scattering of one at the beginning of the last semester when I was super uptight about practicum and getting my internship nailed down.

Fortunately I was having a work day where the mom and baby were at her office and I was going to pick up the monkeys from school.

I had some down time at work to do cleaning and fold laundry and prep stuff for dinner and I got an e-mail regarding some financial aid thing and then another about registering for practicum and something in me just popped.

I got super wound up and it felt like a cement bucket of fear was riding on my chest and creeping up my throat.

Yay!

Anxiety.

For two and a half years I took antidepressants to deal with the depression and anxiety.

I stopped right around my five years of sobriety.

I came off them real easy.

I had been on the lowest dosage anyway.

But.

I felt like I didn’t need them anymore and I was riding my bicycle a lot and nannying some pretty energetic kids and I was doing ok.

I was also began eating a diet abstinent from processed flour and all sugars (except those occurring naturally in fruit, bring on the apples!) and that was a big thing too.

My diet got really clean, I got daily biking exercise, and I was out in the sun a lot pushing a stroller to and from multiple playgrounds.

The anxiety dissipated.

And.

The depression fell away.

I lost lots of weight.

I got happy.

Sure.

Shit happened.

Life happened.

When it was a dark and rainy winter the depression would slide back in a little, but for the most part.

Nothing.

Until.

I started grad school.

Anxiety nightmares.

Stress dreams.

Mild depression each winter semester.

Nothing that I couldn’t titrate with a touch more sleep or with a little more exercise and then I added some flax oil into my diet and rode it out.

The anxiety was easily the worst my first semester of school.

Now.

Today.

Not so much.

But.

It was there.

And truth be told.

It annoyed me.

It pissed me off.

I was like.

No.

NO.

I am not doing this again.

I know what this looks like and I know how to handle it and.

AND.

It never has been that bad.

It never has been the nightmare of not having enough time to do all the things and read all the things and write all the papers that my over active imagination likes to tell me it’s going to be.

Not once.

Not.

Never.

I never stopped blogging, which I told myself I would drop if it got bad.

I never stopped doing morning pages, ditto, I’ll stop if I can’t handle the writing load.

Oh.

Sure.

There were days here and there when I didn’t.

But I was pretty steady through it all.

I also know from experience, this for me is the most basic form of faith, that I always get things done.

And that there really is no need to be anxious about things.

I sent out a few messages, got some sweet responses.

Made a phone call to my person.

Wrote out a gratitude list.

And went about my day.

There are things I am going to have to do and my fall semester this year will look different from my last two as I am in practicum and I am seeing clients and I’m basically a practicing psychotherapist.

Not a psycho.

Haha.

Sorry.

Gallows humor is probably not the most attractive thing in a therapist.

Or is it?

Anyway.

I reached out to my supervisor about my schedule and I saw some openings and some things that I may have to adjust to and change-up.

But.

Overall.

I got this.

I got my books ordered.

I am still waiting for the release of one more syllabus though, I may still have to purchase a few books, but that’s fine.

I got my first text-book in the mail and I started reading it yesterday and yes, it will start traveling with me as I go about my week.

I worked through the anxiety.

I had a nice quiet talk with myself, assuaged my worries, gave myself the you can do it pep talk and basically really breathed into it.

All in all.

I can handle this and I was told that this would be a challenging year.

Haven’t they all been?

But.

That I have seen others walk through it and I know if they can do it so can I.

Plus.

I have a pretty amazing support system, fellowship and community.

I’m going to be just fine.

Because.

I already am.

Today.

Right now.

In this beautiful moment.

There is nothing wrong, and my life.

Well.

Let me just say.

It’s fucking fabulous.

Amazing really.

Luckiest girl in the world.

Seriously.

Twas The Night Before

November 24, 2016

Thanksgiving.

When all through the house.

Not a creature was stirring.

Not.

Even.

A.

Louse.

I mean.

There shouldn’t be a fucking thing stirring.

I cleaned so much today I can hardly stand it.

My house is ridiculously clean.

I washed things that I didn’t even think to wash prior to yesterday’s news.

It had fabric.

That thing got washed.

I mean.

I washed my pot holders.

I did nine loads of laundry.

I think.

I’m not sure, I definitely lost count after six and I know I was still washing stuff.

All my bedding.

Which has to be done every day for a week, just in case.

And frankly, I will be doing it every day, I’m not going to even take a chance.

I got rid of stuff that pained me to get rid of.

All my hair accessories, all my flowers.

I just couldn’t.

I tried to spray them all down, but the thought of there being any infestation.

I just knew I wasn’t going to be able to wear them, I just trashed them all, plus my brush and my comb, all my barrettes, bobby pins, and hair elastics.

Sigh.

I was bummed.

But.

l just knew, there was no going back to using that stuff and I feel better for having let it go.

I can also relate that I haven’t been wearing them as much of late.

I don’t know.

Maybe I’m growing up.

But I did have a thought recently, “what would it be like to not wear flowers in my hair?”

And.

Well.

Fuck.

I get to find out.

At least for a little while.

In the scheme of things, I’m ok.

I was a bit more ashamed of the situation than I realized until I was messaging with a friend and it sort of leaked out and then I was astounded to find out I was upset with myself, for not having realized it sooner, for having to do so much work, for feeling grossed out about having bugs in my hair.

All the grief my brain makes up.

I did some inventory.

I wrote it down.

I called my person.

I cried.

I got some perspective.

Then I went back to washing everything in the house.

And vacuuming.

I have two small area rugs that I just attacked with the vacuum.

I attacked everything.

I’m a bit exhausted from the cleaning.

And more than a little frazzled by the thought of doing the holiday alone.

I was going to be hanging out with a friend, but he had something come up and I realized, well, fuck, as much as I can plan and try to figure things out, life it happens and I can be a sad sack and keep crying over it or I can move on.

Frankly.

I’m a little over the tears.

I have cried now three times today and I’d just like to stop.

This does rank up there in some great holiday memories.

I mean.

Fuck.

At least I’m not waiting tables at the Essen Haus.

I worked two Thanksgiving’s there.

That was miserable.

All you can eat family style Thanksgiving.

And slammed, packed, oozing with people, cheap people with big appetites.

And kids that were untenable and out of control.

I will never forget setting down a tray full of slices of pumpkin pie for a ten top that I had in my section and turning to serve them and seeing a child from another table sticking his fingers into each slice of pie.

I was infuriated.

I took every plate he stuck his fingers in and set them down at his seat.

“We didn’t order that!” His mother said.

“Well, apparently, he thought you did,” I said, and kept putting the plates on the table, “he’s marked all the ones he wants to have, Happy Thanksgiving,” I said and walked away.

“May their trailer home get carried away in the next tornado season,” my best friend told me as I was scrambling to plate fresh pieces of pumpkin pie for my table.

Seriously.

Plenty thankful that I don’t work there anymore.

Or that I haven’t had to work a Thanksgiving in years.

I may have worked one or two while I was at the veterinary hospital, I know I worked a Christmas Eve there, but for the most part, I haven’t in the last decade had to do so.

That’s a gift.

It’s also a gift that there’s a washer and dryer in the garage next to the house.

I washed all my bedding and towels last night when I got home.

And today I continued to do so, I pulled my last load of laundry from the dryer at 5 p.m.

I had started washing clothes and rugs and towels and coats at 8:30 a.m. this morning.

Hell.

I had already had a full day by noon.

Laundry, cleaning, yoga.

I messaged a few more people who might have been to close to my person recently, another friend from school, but so far, it looks like no one else has gotten it.

Relief.

I’m not currently excited about how this holiday is panning out, but I remind myself that I can go and be of service and I have plenty to be grateful for.

In the end.

Thanksgiving is just one day out of the year to be grateful.

I am grateful every day.

I mean.

I really am.

I write a gratitude list twice a day.

Once in the morning in my morning pages and again in the evening, I send one out to my person.

It usually goes something like this:

I am grateful to be alive, sober, abstinent, fed, clothed.

I am grateful my rent is paid, my phone bill is paid, I have a laptop, a scooter, good coffee in the cupboard.

I am grateful to get to go to graduate school.

I am grateful for lice.

Yes.

I wrote that this morning.

It was once suggested to me that I also write down the challenging things in my life, that I get to have challenges, that I get to grow through them.  That the difficulties give me a chance to lean into God.

I mean.

I am grateful my employers paid for my treatment and for the products to clean my house and that I had today off to take care of it.

I am grateful for sunshine.

I am grateful for cooking for myself and eating persimmons.

I am very grateful for persimmons.

I am grateful for getting to go to yoga this morning, that wasn’t in my plan for today either, but I got to do it and that was nice.

I am grateful for flexibility, in my life, in my home, in my person.

I am grateful that I was able to deal with the issue and I get to move the fuck on.

Happy Thanksgiving y’all.

I hope it is one filled with family, merriment, good food, and no lack of lice.

Seriously.

 


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